Legally Sane
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Harley Quinn is declared legally sane, and struggles to cope with life on her own. Will she relapse into madness?


**Legally Sane**

Dr. Harleen Quinzel entered her apartment, shut the door, and sighed. She looked around at the tasteful furniture and modest decoration, the minimalist style the designer had created, on the advice of her doctors. It was a nice apartment, no doubt about that. Anybody would kill to have a place like this, metaphorically speaking, of course. It was spacious, simple and elegant, good location, and all at a reasonable price. It was a lucky find. She was a lucky girl. No, a lucky, happy, independent, normal young lady. That was what her shrink told her to keep repeating to herself. A normal young lady.

She put her bag down on the coffee table, sighing again. It had been a stressful day at work. The patients she had had were pretty routine and not very interesting – commitment phobes, sex addicts, alcoholics, pretty standard stuff. She hadn't gone into psychiatry for this, to help people who were essentially normal. Previously, when she had worked at Arkham Asylum, there was always something to look forward to, some incredibly interesting patient with a bright, vibrant persona, supercriminals with an element of glamour. Just like…

She shook her head. Her shrink had told her not to think about him. It was the only way not to regress and destroy the progress she had made in the past three months. "Be proud of your achievement," she had said. "Just look at that piece of paper and feel proud."

She looked up at the document hanging over the mantle. _Harleen Quinzel: Legally Sane_, it read. It had taken a lot of effort to earn that diagnosis, and she should be proud, she told herself, looking at it. But she didn't feel proud. She felt the same way she had felt for the past three months – strangely empty. And unhappy.

It would take time, she told herself, time to adjust. These things always took time. But they would get better. Everyone had promised her that. Once she adapted, once she got used to living a sane, normal, productive life, it would all get better. She would stop feeling so empty, and she would stop missing him. She would have normal relationships with normal people, doing normal activities, enjoying a nice, quiet, normal life.

She nodded, trying to reassure herself of this, and went into the kitchen to fix herself dinner. As she stood at the counter, cutting up vegetables, she began to find the silence oppressive. So she turned on the TV, just to have the droning noise in the background as she finished cooking. She was just putting the finishing touches on the meal, when someone knocked on her door.

Puzzled, she went over to open it. She had no idea who it could be. She hadn't made any friends working at the new asylum, and any of her friends from when she was committed in the old asylum wouldn't know where to find her.

Opening the door, she saw one of her colleagues standing there, a fellow doctor she had worked with last week, a nice young man named Dr. Jonathan Bryan. "Hi, Harleen, hope I'm not disturbing you," he said, smiling at her. "But you left your notes in your office. I thought you might need them."

"Oh…thanks, Johnny," she said, taking the notebook from him. "Guess I just forgot. I've got a lot on my mind right now and sometimes you just blank out, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know," he replied. "It's been a long day. That Jackson guy, he really takes a lot of effort. I've never worked with such a manipulative, dangerous patient before, have you?"

"Um…yeah," she stammered. Jackson was a pretty standard, boring guy – a common thug with childhood issues. He wasn't really manipulative or dangerous. Not like… "Yeah, I have," she said, shaking her head again. "Sorry, Johnny, I'm not really feeling like myself tonight. Thanks for bringing my notes. It's sweet of you; you really didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he replied. "I wanted to make sure you were ok. You are ok, aren't you, Harleen?" he asked, gently, his eyes full of genuine concern.

"Yeah, of course, just tired," she replied, forcing a smile. "And call me Harley. Everyone does."

"Ok, Harley," he replied, smiling at her. "Pretty name."

"Yeah," she murmured. "Yeah…I guess it is." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Look, Johnny, I gotta go," she said, wiping her eyes. "I just made dinner, don't want it to get cold…"

"You know you can talk to me if you need to, don't you, Harley?" he asked, quietly. "I know you're new here, just like I am, and you might not have many friends, and I'd like to be your friend, if you'll let me. If something's bothering you, and you need to talk, I just want you to know I'm here to listen. Ok?"

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, thanks, Johnny. You're a sweet guy."

He was a sweet guy. Nice, earnest, sincere, handsome, just the kind of guy her shrink encouraged her to get to know better. The sooner she formed a healthy relationship with another man, the sooner she would forget all about…him.

"You wanna stay for dinner?" she asked, suddenly. "There's probably enough for two. And I've got some wine…"

He smiled, a sweet, sincere smile, not an evil crazy one. Not like…

"That'd be nice," he replied.

"Great. Ok. Come in," she said, holding open the door. He entered and looked around the room.

"Oh, Harley, this is a beautiful apartment," he said.

"Yeah, you like it? I'm still getting used to it," she replied, heading for the kitchen. She scooped the dinner onto two plates, then poured two glasses of wine. "Sit down, make yourself at home," she said. "Find something on the TV, if you want."

To her surprise, he came into the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Help?" she repeated. She wasn't expecting that. He had never… "Um…no, thanks, Johnny, I'm fine."

She picked up the plates and he carried the glasses out. They set them down on the coffee table, then sat down on the sofa. The news was playing on the TV, some boring story about Gotham City Zoo, and they sat in silence for a few moments, watching it. Harley took a sip of wine, trying desperately to think of some way to start up a conversation. Then she noticed Johnny's eyes reading the piece of paper above the mantle.

"That," said Harley, quickly, feeling she had to explain before he got the wrong impression. "That's nothing. I had a little trouble a few months back, a bit of emotional and mental instability, going through a bad period in my life, bad relationship, I…"

He took her hand. "You don't have to explain yourself to me," he said, gently. "I wasn't going to pry. You should feel free to tell me in your own time, if you want to. If you don't, I won't ask."

He smiled at her, and then started eating. "This food is delicious, Harley," he said.

Complimenting her on her cooking. He had never complimented her on her cooking. It felt more strange than anything else. Harley was actually speechless. "Thanks…thanks, Johnny," she stammered.

She laughed nervously. "I'm not used to…um…being complimented for my cooking…or really, complimented for anything. My…um…my…my ex-boyfriend was a bit…um…unappreciative, I guess. Bit of a jerk, really."

She teared up at the word 'ex-boyfriend,' even though that was what he was. And he was a jerk, even though it physically hurt her to say that. An ungrateful, abusive, manipulative jerk. And she missed him so much.

"Sounds like you're better off being rid of him," he replied. "And you're doing just great on your own, Harley. You have this beautiful apartment, and a wonderful new job, which you're great at, by the way. You're a really astute psychiatrist. And you're really good with people."

Harley felt herself tearing up again. "Thanks, Johnny," she whispered. "Sorry about the tears, but…just not used to the compliments, you know."

He looked at her tenderly. "Wow, Harley, he must have really hurt you," he whispered.

"Yeah…yeah, he did," she murmured. "Hurt me real bad. Scars that will never fully heal. But, you know, people move on, they sort themselves out, and they live happy, normal lives. And that's what I'm doing."

He smiled at her. "You're a real inspiration, Harley. I mean that. You should be so proud of yourself."

"I know I should be," she murmured. "I know."

She looked up at the piece of paper, willing herself to feel proud. But she didn't feel anything but emptiness.

"Excuse me, I'll be back in a second," she whispered, heading for the bathroom. She locked the door, and stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself. Looking at her natural face, not made-up like some silly clown, but normal and strong and pretty. That's what she was. Normal and strong and pretty. She was sure Johnny would say so.

She bit her lip, fighting with herself. What harm could it do, just to look at it? It might help this horrible, aching emptiness inside her. So she gently unbuttoned her top, slipping it off, and slowly unhooked her bra. She stared at her left breast, just over her heart, where a scar had been carved into her flesh, a scar in the shape of a 'J.'

She touched it tenderly. "Mr. J," she whispered, tearing up. "Oh, Mr. J!"

She burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably for a little while, before she managed to pull herself together again, remembering the doctor's words. A strong, independent, normal young lady.

She wiped her eyes firmly, dressed, and then returned to the living room. Johnny looked at her in concern.

"You ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Fine. Never better."

She sipped some more wine. "So what about you, Johnny?" she asked. "I'll bet you've never been in a toxic relationship. I'll bet there's a real nice girl in your life, a girl who deserves a sweet guy like you."

He smiled. "Well, not at the moment," he replied. "I'm unattached. But there's this girl at work who's really nice and pretty, and I just can't stop thinking about her."

"Yeah?" asked Harley, feeling her heart pounding. This was it. This could be her chance for a whole new relationship, a whole new life, if only she had the courage to go through with it.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling tenderly at her. "I don't know her very well, but I'd certainly like to get to know her better. She's not only nice and pretty, but strong and capable and bright and fun and just one of the most wonderful women I've ever met. She's got a bouncy personality that just radiates sunshine whenever she's in the room. But she's been through hell, and she shouldn't have to go through that any more. I would never put her through that, not for anything."

"Yeah?" she breathed. "You mean that, Johnny?"

He took her hand again. "I mean that, Harley," he murmured, sincerely. She hadn't seen sincerity in a man's eyes in a long time. "I promise I would never hurt you. I would never have the heart to do that. Nobody should ever hurt someone as precious and as special as you."

"Johnny…" she whispered, choking on her tears. He tilted her chin up and gently brought his lips down toward hers. Harley shut her eyes, her breathing sped up, as she waited, terrified, for him to…

"Breaking news, we've had confirmation that the homicidal maniac known only as the Joker has just escaped from Arkham Asylum," said the voice of Jack Ryder on the TV news. Harley's eyes snapped open and she started back in shock, spilling wine onto Johnny's lap.

"Oh God, sorry, Johnny, I…" she stammered, flinching as he raised his hand, expecting some kind of punishment. But he just reached for the napkins to mop up the wine spill. Harley's eyes fixed on the TV, flashing images of the Joker across the screen. "Mr. J," she breathed. "Oh, Mr. J!"

"Harley? You ok?" Johnny asked, concerned.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm…Mr. J," she murmured, focusing back on the TV. "Mr. J!" she exclaimed suddenly, standing up. "He'll be coming to find me! You have to get out of here! He'll kill you!"

"Harley, what are you talking about?" asked Johnny.

"Look, I know you're new to Gotham, but you must have heard of the Joker!" exclaimed Harley. "The Clown Prince of Crime?! The most dangerous, homicidal lunatic in the world?!"

"Yes, of course I have, but why…"

"He's my ex!" shouted Harley. "He's the abusive jerk! And he won't be happy about me trying to move on with my life! He won't be happy about me being with a nice guy like you! He hates nice guys! He hates everyone and everything except his jokes, and the things that make him laugh! But he wouldn't find this very funny! You have to get out of here, Johnny, now!"

He stared at her. "You're Harley Quinn," he breathed.

She shut her eyes tightly. "I was," she muttered. "Yeah, I was Harley Quinn. But that's all gone, finished. It's not who I am, it's not who I want to be. I want to have a nice, happy, useful, normal life. And the only way I can do that is by confronting him. He'll come here, he'll try to make me come back. And I'll say no. I can do that now. I'm strong enough."

He continued to stare at her in disbelief. Then a resolution shone in his eyes, and he took her hand again. "Let me stay here," he murmured. "Let me fight him for you."

"What are you, crazy?" she demanded. "He'll kill you! Don't get me wrong, Johnny, it's a really sweet thought, and I'm very flattered, but seriously, you don't stand a chance against him. I know how to handle him, though. I've always known how to handle him. No, you leave now and when he's gone I'll…I'll call you."

"Promise?" he asked. "I'll be worried until I hear from you."

"I promise," she said.

He nodded, scribbling his number down on a piece of paper and handing it to her. Then he touched her cheek gently and leaned forward to kiss her, but she drew her face away. "There's no time, Johnny," she murmured. "Please just leave before he comes."

He nodded again. She hurried him to the door. "Get home safe," she whispered after him.

Then she shut the door, put his number in her pocket, and rushed to the mirror, looking at her normal, natural reflection. She could do this. She was strong, independent, capable. He was abusive, toxic, parasitic. She didn't need him. He added nothing to her life – he was just a weight that pulled her down. She had to drop the weight. Had to stop herself from wanting that burden again. But for the first time in three months, as she sat on the sofa, waiting for him, she felt excited. And happy. She felt full and alive. Nobody else could awaken those kinds of feelings inside her. Nothing in her life without him had ever made her feel like this. Surely what they had had couldn't be all evil, when it made her so happy?

She shook her head to remove these dangerous thoughts. The doctors wouldn't like her thinking like that. It was crazy. And she was sane. Legally sane. She was free and independent and strong and capable and confident and assertive and self-respecting, all those big words that mean so much to everyone. She was Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and she didn't need the Joker. He was crazy, and she was sane. And normal. Perfectly normal now.

She was startled by a knock on the door. Her heart was hammering against her chest as she stood up, and calmly walked across the room. She opened the door to reveal the perpetually smiling face of the Joker.

"Pumpkin pie!" he cried, throwing up his arms. "Thought I might find you here! I had a devil of a time tracking you down, but after torturing five shrinks, the sixth one finally coughed up your address! And I repaid him with a bullet through his head – can't say it wasn't a fair exchange!" He laughed, his crazy, maniacal laugh, and Harley's heart sped up again. God, she had missed it!

"Bit of a ritzy area for you, isn't it, Harl?" he continued. "I expect the likes of Catwoman and Penguin to try to fit in with the high society freaks, but I always thought the local warehouse or run-of-the-mill joint suited my Harley girl best! No fancy pretensions to glamour with you, sweets! You wanna invite me in?"

"No, not really," she retorted. "We can talk just as easily in the hall. What I have to say won't take long, Joker."

He stared at her. "Gee, baby, you don't sound much like your old self," he said. "Joker? No Mistah J? No puddin'? I thought you'd be over the moon to see me again! Don't tell me you haven't missed me in three months? And why are you dressed like that? You look like crap. Like a shrink or something."

"I am employed as a psychiatrist in the local mental hospital," she replied, calmly. "These are my work clothes. I think they suit me much better than a ridiculous mask and costume."

"No, they don't," he retorted. "And stop talking like that, Harley. Where's your accent? Where's your smile, baby? God, don't tell me they've made you stop smiling!"

She was surprised to see genuine emotion in his eyes. He reached out and touched her cheek, and she shuddered with the sudden, strong sensation of deep love, deep desire, that shot through her whole body like an arrow, making it tingle.

"What have they done to you, Harley?" he breathed.

She shut her eyes, turning her face to nuzzle against his hand. The sense of love, of delight, that she had been without for so long, bubbled up inside her, yearning to be free, as her lips stroked his knuckles. "Oh, Mr. J," she whispered, as he brought his mouth down to hers. Feeling his touch, and the scent of him as he drew near her, feeling his warmth, and nearing his lips…it was like coming home…

She drew back suddenly, reasserting herself. "No," she said, firmly. "No, I am Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a strong, independent, capable, and assertive young lady, and I do not need clowns in my life! I am worth more than a pet and a toy to some crazy homicidal murderer, and I will not fall for your tricks and your jokes again! I am going to live a happy, productive, useful life, free and independent, without you! That's all I have to say to you, Joker. Unless you have anything to add to this discussion, I would ask that you leave me in peace. I am moving on with my life without you in it."

He looked at her in surprise. Then he laughed. "Good one, Harley!" he chuckled. "Gotta hand it to you, baby, good gag, good delivery, really convincing! I actually bought it! I might be worried if it weren't so patently ridiculous! Moving on with your life without me, my dear, you need me!"

"I do not need you," she snapped. "I thought I did for a long time, but I was mistaken. I don't need anyone, except myself, free and independent and self-respecting. Which I am now, Joker, no thanks to you. You have no idea how difficult it was overcoming all the emotional obstacles you threw in my way, how hard it was to grasp back some sense of self-esteem after you made me feel completely worthless all those years! But I have now. I love myself. And that's the only person I need to love."

He stared at her, the smiling gradually falling from his face. It was replaced with a look of utter fury. "Yeah? Is that what all those Arkham shrinks told you? And you actually swallowed the lies they spoon-fed you, Harley? I always thought you were brighter than that. You're smart, kid, you've always been smarter than the rest of them. That's why I chose you, because you understood. You understood the lie of being normal, of living a normal life, and how utterly unfulfilling that was. You understood that there was more to me, and more to you, than normal people could ever understand or ever satisfy. You understood that we were both different, both special, and that we belonged together. And let me tell you something, it's disgusting to see you now, trying to be just like them. Taking what makes you special and unique and hiding it away in some pathetic attempt at fitting in, at trying to be normal like all the rest of them. My Harley girl would never want that. But you repeat that line again, go ahead, the line that the shrinks fed you, the line my Harley girl would never say, the line that sounds sick coming out of her mouth. All that crap about living a normal life, and being free and independent, and loving only herself. My Harley girl was never that selfish. She was free, because she did what she felt whenever she felt it. She was strong, because she stayed true to herself even when the world tried to interfere. And she was sweet, and loving, and generous, without ever asking for anything in return. And let me tell you, that's worth a lot more than being independent and assertive and self-respecting and all that crap – anyone can be that. My Harley was special. And she was worth more than all the normal people in this world put together."

He took her face in his hands. "And God, I hope she's strong enough now to overcome all that crap the shrinks have been beating her down with for the last three months, and return to her Mr. J," he murmured. "Cause Mr. J needs his Harley girl to put a smile on his face. C'mon, pooh. A little smile? For me?"

Harley stared at him, emotions flooding through her, emotions she had forced herself to repress for the past three months, three months of utter agony. And suddenly they were back, making the world bright again and making her feel herself again - complete and utter adoration, complete and utter love, joy, happiness, delight. She let out a sob. "Oh, Mr. J!" she cried, leaping into his arms. "Oh, I love you, puddin'!"

He kissed her, and happiness burst through her, flooding every cell and every pore, making every inch of her feel as if it had just awoken from three months of sleep and misery. It was all over now. Over. He was here, and she was alive and complete once more. She was his Harley Quinn. And she was never, ever leaving him again.

A shot suddenly rang out as a bullet whizzed past her head, and Harley screamed as Joker shoved them both through the door, knocking her to the ground. "Crap, that'll be Two-Face," he muttered.

"Two-Face?" repeated Harley.

"Yeah, we broke out of Arkham together, and then I stole his car," he retorted. "I thought he'd like being double-crossed, y'know, maybe appreciate the joke. But the guy's got no sense of humor."

"So you led him here?" she demanded.

"I was on my way to see you anyway, and I thought maybe this might be a good place to hole up," he replied. "Y'know, he might not find me so quickly. But I guess he's pretty determined when he's angry."

"Yeah, and now he can kill both of us," she snapped.

"Aw, c'mon, pooh bear, that's not the Harley I know!" he exclaimed. "She doesn't just roll over and accept death! I mean, she does roll over and accept other things Daddy gives her, but…"

"Go hide in my bedroom," interrupted Harley. "I've got an idea for handling Two-Face."

"That's my girl!" he said, kissing her cheek. "Go get him, slugger!"

Harley strode to the front door in response to the angry knocking. It was unbelievable, really. Just an hour ago, she had been having a quiet dinner with a nice, normal guy, and now she was hiding a convicted murderer and about to try to reason with another convicted murderer. It was crazy. And she loved it.

She dropped her smile as she opened the door. Two-Face was glaring at her, pointing the barrel of a gun at her head. "Where is he?" he growled.

"Who, Mr. Dent?" she asked, calmly.

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch!" he hissed. "Where's the clown?"

"Clown?" she repeated. "What clown?"

"The Joker! Your goddamn boyfriend! That sick, disgusting excuse for a human being who has double-crossed me for the last time! Where the hell is he, Harley?!"

She looked at him coldly. "Mr. Dent, my name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and you will address me as Dr. Quinzel. As to the Joker, I haven't seen him since I was fully rehabilitated and declared legally sane. Nor do I intend to see him ever again. Sane people cannot have anything to do with crazy people, and the Joker is the definition of crazy, while I am now the pinnacle of sanity."

"I saw him come up here," growled Two-Face. "I got a shot at him from the stairwell, but missed."

Harley nodded slowly. "You are correct, he did attempt to initiate a conversation with me. But I refused to speak to him, and shut the door in his face. I am a strong, independent, and capable woman now, Mr. Dent, and I cannot waste my time conversing with homicidal madmen. Present company included. But if you insist on making a nuisance of yourself, you're welcome to come in and see."

She opened the door. Two-Face looked confused, but came inside. "As you can see, my apartment is tastefully decorated, with no pictures of clowns in sight," she said, smiling at him patiently. "And over here is my certificate testifying to my sanity. You may examine it if you like – I'm very proud of it."

She handed him the framed document. "Here is my notebook full of my research notes of patients I have been treating, now that I'm a practicing psychiatrist once more," she said, gesturing to the notebook on the table. "And here is the remains of a dinner I was enjoying with a very nice, normal young man, before the Joker decided to inflict his presence on me yet again. He's like a bad joke, something that keeps being repeated and nobody laughs at anymore. Not that I make jokes much anymore."

Two-Face was absolutely astonished. "You were on a date with another guy?" he muttered. "You, Harley Quinn, dating someone besides the Joker?"

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and yes, I was," she retorted. "Got his phone number right here if you'd like to call him and confirm for yourself. He's a sweet guy – we'll be seeing more of each other."

"No…that's ok," stammered Two-Face. Both faces were stunned. "Um…gee…Harley, I guess you really have…turned your life around."

"I have, and I'm very proud of myself," she replied. "The Arkham doctors say I'm a resounding success. There's no chance of a relapse. I thought perhaps there was, but then I told Joker to get lost, and now I'm sure I will spend the remainder of my life being a nice, normal, productive member of society. You might aspire to that yourself, Mr. Dent. I assure you, it is most gratifying."

"Yeah…maybe. Well, congratulations, Har…Dr. Quinzel," he corrected, heading for the door. "Um…good luck with the whole sanity thing and I guess I'll…see you around."

"Perhaps. Not in Arkham though," replied Harley, smiling at him. "Goodbye, Mr. Dent."

She shut the door on him and listened for him to walk away. Then she rushed to her bedroom. She opened the door to see that Joker had decorated the walls by going through her makeup bag and drawing smiley faces with her lipstick. "It was an ugly room, pooh, in fact, this whole damn apartment is," he said, grinning at her. "Boring, sterile white walls. But a nice big smile makes it all better!"

Harley grinned and kissed him. "C'mon, puddin', let's get outta here," she murmured. "As nice as this room is now, I can't stand this damn apartment. It's enough to drive anyone crazy. We can take my car - let's go home."

Harley couldn't help but notice that Joker was unusually silent on the drive. Then suddenly he laughed. "That was a great performance, Harley girl, and I just loved your little details!" he said, grinning at her. "Y'know, the lies you made up to make it all seem more believable."

"I didn't lie about any details, Mr. J," she replied.

He laughed again, but it wasn't a happy laugh. "Well, y'know, pooh, that whole thing about having dinner with another guy…"

"I was having dinner with another guy, Mr. J," she said.

"Oh," he said. He was silent, then cleared his throat. "So…what's his name?"

"Johnny," replied Harley.

"Nice guy?" he pressed.

"Yeah. Real nice guy. Really honest and sincere. Cares about me a lot. Offered to stay and fight you, actually."

"Wouldn't have lasted two seconds," growled Joker.

"I know, that's why I told him to beat it," she replied. "Didn't want to see him get hurt, a sweet guy like him."

Joker's smile had tightened so that his teeth were grinding together. "Handsome fellow too, I suppose?" he muttered. "Young?"

"Yeah, about my age. And really cute. Nice big, baby blue eyes. Doctor, you know."

"No, I didn't," he growled. "Fancy that."

He was fuming. It was so cute, Harley couldn't suppress a grin. "Well, sounds like you've hit the jackpot, Harley," he snapped. "Young, handsome doctor who's really nice and sweet and nuts about you. Every woman's dream, really."

"You jealous, Mr. J?" she asked.

"I don't get jealous, Harley," he retorted. "You're mine, you dumb broad, and don't you ever forget it!"

Harley grinned. He was jealous. "Aw, c'mon, Mr. J, you know I don't want a sweet guy," she murmured, looking at him. "He ain't my type. That's what normal people want, and who needs 'em? I want my puddin', just the way he is."

"Just drive the damn car, Harley," he growled. But Harley could tell by the relaxing of his smile that this was a relief to him. She put a hand on his thigh and he didn't push her away. And his own hand may have accidentally come down to rest on top of hers.

They arrived at last at one of their many hideouts scattered around Gotham. Harley began to clean the place up and make it look more like home, while Joker set to work with his usual array of schemes and plans. And even though her occupation usually consisted of dusting and cleaning up after Mr. J, Harley got more fulfillment and joy out of these menial tasks than she ever did as a doctor. She had her puddin' with her, and that made life worth living. Who needed normal anyway?

At last, the inevitable happened. They were busted by the Bat and dragged back to Arkham Asylum. Harley didn't mind – her face actually lit up with a grin as she looked upon the old building again. And as she was dragged along the halls, she was delighted to see so many friendly faces beaming at her in joy.

"Hey, Harley's back!"

"Hi, Harley, long time no see!"

"Glad you're back, Harl, we really missed you," said Poison Ivy as Harley was thrown into the cell next to her.

"Yeah, I missed you all too," said Harley, smiling as she looked around her cell. Home. She was back home in the madhouse, with the rest of the crazy people.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. "Hey, ain't I allowed a free phone call?" she shouted at the guard. "I wanna make mine, dammit, or I'm calling my lawyer!"

The guards saw no reason to object to this, so they escorted Harley to the phone in the Rec Room. The rest of the inmates were gathered there, playing games and watching TV. Joker and Two-Face were once again on speaking terms and were playing a game of blackjack - Harley had talked them both into being reasonable, and setting aside their differences. She often had to make the peace between Mr. J and the rest of the inmates. They all needed her, they really did. Nothing worked right without her. She was like the glue that held people together, and she realized now how important she was to everyone there. And also how important they were to her. Harley blew Joker a kiss, then picked up the phone. She reached into her pocket and dialled a number.

It rang. Then a voice said, "Hello?"

"Johnny? It's Harley."

"Harley! It's been ages! I was so worried when I didn't hear from you, and when you didn't come to work, I feared the worst! I tried to get them to investigate but the doctors said it was always a risk that you would relapse…Are you all right? Where are you now?"

"I'm back home where I belong, Johnny," replied Harley. "But I just wanted to thank you for being such a sweetheart to me, and for being a friend when I needed one most. Friends are really valuable to people, whether they're sane or crazy. Especially when they're sane, though. The world's pretty hard to deal with when you're seeing things straight. I just wanted to thank you for being there when my world wasn't quite right."

There was a pause. "So you're back…with the clown?" he asked, quietly.

"Yeah. We belong together, Johnny. And I love him. I love him so much it hurts sometimes. But he makes every moment of every day so special, and makes me feel alive every single second I breathe. And he makes me happy. He makes me laugh. And I need him, Johnny. And he needs me. He loves me."

Silence again. "Well, I can't ask for more than that for you," said Johnny, gently. "I'm glad you're happy, Harley. I really am. Thanks for calling and letting me know you're safe. Maybe we'll see each other again someday?"

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed. She paused. "Johnny, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Harley," he replied.

"Can you go to my apartment and get my certificate of sanity? And then rip it up? I don't like lies being written about me, if I can avoid it."

"Sure, Harley," he said.

"Thanks, Johnny," she murmured. "You really are a sweet guy."

"Why, you two-timing, double-crossing, lying, cheating bastard!" shouted Two-Face suddenly, standing up and sending the cards flying. "I saw that ace go up your sleeve, you useless waste of skin! I'm gonna beat my winnings out of your hide!"

"Gotta go, Johnny, I'm needed," said Harley. "Stop by and visit me in Arkham sometime, would you?"

"I will, Harley," he replied, sincerely.

"Harley, get your ass over here and help me!" shouted Joker, trying to beat back Two-Face.

"Thanks, Johnny. See you soon. Bye!"

She hung up the phone and rushed over. "All right, knock it off, you two, knock it off!" she shouted, struggling to pull them apart. "Jesus, who would trade a normal life with a great job and a nice guy for playing referee and punching bag to the world's most dangerous lunatics?"

Well, Harley would, she reminded herself. But then she was crazy, after all. Wonderfully, legally, permanently crazy.


End file.
